


The Cursed Blade

by SoraMystic



Series: Return of the Sky AU [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, I do not exactly hold back on swearing so :), Return of the Sky AU, look out for that if it ain't your jam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoraMystic/pseuds/SoraMystic
Summary: In which we explore the character that is Foreteller Superia and the legacy that is his keyblade.
Series: Return of the Sky AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692160
Kudos: 3





	1. Part 1: Master Seeker

**Author's Note:**

> *returns a year later with a new fandom and like five AUs* I can explain.
> 
> ...
> 
> No I can't. Enjoy.

It’s a quiet day as always.

The window is open and the only sound coming in is distant waves and seagulls. Somewhere a string instrument is being played.

Xehanort sighs as he watches Eraqus put away their chess game and lets his gaze drift to the black Keyblade on the wall. It’s been there for as long as he can remember, its eye-like gem occasionally catching the light when the curtains flutter.

“Eraqus?”

Eraqus turns around as he closes the drawer. “Yeah?”

“That Keyblade-”, Xehanort gestures. “-does it have a name?”

“Uhhh…” Eraqus scratches his head. “I… think the master mentioned it once? Hmm, what was it again…?” He thinks for a while, then says; “Why d’you want to know?”

Xehanort shrugs. “I’ve seen that thing so often now, I was just wondering if it’s an actual blade or just-” He waves a hand. “-wall-decoration.” Eraqus snickers at that.

“I’m pretty sure it’s an actual blade, yeah. Ugh, what was it called again? I would have to ask the master, I think”, he says. Then he smiles and oh no, Xehanort knows that look. Eraqus would get that look every time right before completely flipping their game right around. Needless to say, Xehanort didn’t exactly like that look. It usually meant trouble – for him.

“I bet I could get it down from there. And we can just ask it”, Eraqus says and yep there it is. The bad idea. Xehanort sighs.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, it looks old. I doubt it has a voice left to answer with”, he says and Eraqus pouts.

“Wanna bet?”

_Ah._

Xehanort smirks. “Bet? What are we betting?”

Eraqus grins as if he’s already won. Maybe he has. Xehanort doesn’t care. “If I can get it down, you have to do next class’s homework for me.”

“And if you can’t?”

Eraqus shrugs. “Then I probably have some kinda head trauma from falling and you get to say ‘I told you so’.”

Xehanort laughs at that. “Yeah, alright, I guess that’s a fair bet”, he says.

The next ten minutes he spends looking on as Eraqus first uses magic on himself to get up there, then struggles to unscrew the dang thing while also keeping a hold of his Keyblade. Eventually Eraqus looks back down at his friend. “Can you gimme a hand?”

Xehanort, leaning forward, chin in hand, grins. “Nah.” When Eraqus starts to protest, he adds; “You didn’t say anything about me having to help. If you want me to help, you have to call off the bet, else that would’ve been too easy a win for you.”

“Okay, fine”, Eraqus grumbles. “Guess you have a point.”

“I always do.”

“Yeah, I know”, Eraqus says. He rolls his eyes. “That’s why you’re the teacher’s _favorite_.”

“The teacher doesn’t have favorites.”

“That’s what _you_ think.” Xehanort laughs. It takes Eraqus another five minutes to dismantle the Keyblade while maintaining his Aero, but somehow he manages it, so when he is finally on the ground again, he does so grinning smugly. “Told ya I could do it. You owe me homework.”

“Yeah, whatever. History’s not that hard, y’know”, Xehanort says as Eraqus pouts again. “For you maybe.” He hands over the blade.

And immediately the world turns black.

And suddenly he’s falling, falling through a cold black void.

And before he has even taken a breath to scream, there is solid ground under his feet once again, together with a faint golden glow.

“What the…? Where am I…?”, he mutters. It looks like the Station of Awakening he saw when he started his training, but… the ground below him is a solid, softly shining gold. No stained glass, no tiers, nothing. “What is this place…?”

_You…_

A soundless voice speaks in the back of his head. Xehanort whirls around. “Who’s there?!”

_You… wish… Power?_

There is no sound to it, and yet the voice feels faint somehow, barely a step above a whisper.

“What are you saying? Power??” He can’t find the source of the voice, which feels wrong. This whole place feels wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he is overcome with the feeling that he absolutely should not be here.

_You… heart. Curious… eager… Wish… power?_

“You’re offering me power? I don’t need it, I have my own”, Xehanort says, summoning his Keyblade. Eraqus had called the black-and-blue, gothic-esque thing ‘tacky’ once. Maybe he was right, but it was plenty intimidating and Xehanort could use that right now.

_Not enough… you wish… seek? Beyond… into.. unknown… You… more power…_

Xehanort tightens his grip on the Keyblade. “You’re saying I’m lacking? That if I want to seek out new worlds, I need more power? I need you?”

_Yes… help… seek…_

The already faint voice somehow becomes fainter. Not as if it’s going away, but more as if it’s… dying out.

“Wait! Don’t go, I have so many questions!”, Xehanort calls out. He hasn’t even gotten to do what he came for, in the first place. “You can’t just die on me now!”

_Old… tired… no strength…_

Ah. So that’s what it was. This Keyblade was ancient. Perhaps it had drawn him in in a last attempt at saving itself? “Do you need my help? So you don’t fade?”

_If… can…_

“What do you need?”

_…_

For a while the voice doesn’t answer, and Xehanort fears it might have died out completely. Then, barely noticeable;

_Heart._

Xehanort can feel his own stop for a second. A heart? This thing was asking for a heart? No way, not happening. He’d been willing to help this old, fading Keyblade but if it was gonna take his heart to fix itself, then that was off the table. Not in a million years would he give his heart away.

“I can’t do that”, he says. “I’ll cease to be, I can’t give you a heart.” Then he has an idea. He holds out his Keyblade. “But I can give this. My power in exchange for yours. Could that work?”

What the hell was he doing? Offering up his Keyblade, his source of power, for this weak old thing? Eraqus’ family treated it as an artifact from lost times, but who was to say that was even true? And now he was giving up his Key? Maybe he should-

_Yes._

The Keyblade disappears from his hand with the sensation of a tolling bell. It rings and resonates in Xehanort’s chest, which suddenly feels empty and hollow. He’d given his Keyblade, and yet it still feels as if the thing had taken his heart after all. It hurts. It hurts.

Air leaves him as he sinks to his knees. It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts- it’s so _empty_ all of sudden and it _hurts-_

“Child.”

Something enters his vision – an outstretched hand.

Words are impossible, so Xehanort only makes a pained noise. It’s like gravity is actively pulling on him and he wants nothing more than to just completely collapse if it’ll make the hollow feeling go away-

“Child, look at me.”

It’s that voice. It’s _the_ voice. The voice of the Keyblade. And it’s impossible to resist.

Somehow, with a tremendous feat of strength, Xehanort manages to look up.

The first thing he notices is the mask, dark and bat-winged, obscuring half the face. Then the delicately embroidered black robes, the pale hair peeking out from under the hood.

“W-who are you…?”, Xehanort manages and immediately winces. It’s like there is an echo to his words, reverberating in his chest, rattling his ribs and drumming in his ears. Like he is completely empty inside. “You… did you really take just my- my Keyblade…?” It feels like so much more, too much was taken.

“I did, that was the deal. And it restored me greatly, for which you have my gratitude. As for your first question; I am what remains of my master’s will, which I am to carry it out till the end of times”, the person says.

They look human enough, but it’s the small details that are wrong – face too symmetrical, mouth too wide, teeth too long. They’re still holding out their hand and Xehanort shivers at the thought of having to touch this creature.

One of Xehanort’s arms gives out from under him and he yelps as he nearly slams face-first into the floor. He groans at the resonance the movement causes.

“Ah yes. I should hold up my end of the deal, I suppose”, the Keyblade says, summoning the weapon. They hold it out, handle pointed towards Xehanort, whose hand reaches out without his permission and takes it.

He gasps as a new bell resounds, but instead of the painful echo, it seems to build walls, lessen the pain, quieting the vibrations. Xehanort sighs in relief. The hollow feeling is still there, but it’s background noise now. Easy to ignore, easy to deal with. He pushes himself to stand.

“Careful”, the Keyblade says.

“Shut up”, Xehanort mutters. “That stunt nearly killed me. Could have given me a warning, don’t you think?”

“Would you have helped me if I told you?”, they counter. Xehanort doesn’t have an answer to that. They continue; “I sensed the desire to seek within you. I figured, if anyone could help me, it would be you. And I was right.”

“You are insufferable.”

“So I have been told”, the Keyblade says, not without a tiny smile. “You can help me with my mission, of that I am certain.” “You mentioned that, your master’s will”, Xehanort says. “What does that entail exactly?”

“To seek.”

“Yeah, I figured that.”

The Keyblade scoffs. “If you’ll let me finish- my mission is to seek and find something incredibly important to my master. I cannot rest until I’ve found it. Recently the amount of those who would wield me has… dwindled. As a result, I have been losing more and more of myself until I was in the sorry state you found me in”, they explain.

“And this important thing – can I ask what it is? If you want me to help you, I think I have a certain right to know”, Xehanort says. The Keyblade is heavy in his hand, far heavier than it has any right to be. Could it be the will of the master?

“I do not recall.”

“…Excuse me?”

The Keyblade sighs. “It is as I said. I am old, very old. I do not remember what it is I seek exactly, but…” They place a hand over their chest. As a weapon, they don’t have a heart, but the gesture still carries its meaning. “I know that I will know it when I see it. My master’s heart has not forgotten, it will recognize the thing it is looking for even if I do not know what it is.”

“Riiiiiight…”, Xehanort says. That made no sense whatsoever. Or maybe it did? The heart was a mysterious entity afterall. “So… If I’m your new wielder, will you tell me your name?”

“The name of this face or the name of that?”, they ask, pointing at their weapon-form in Xehanort’s hand. Xehanort raises said blade. “This.” The Keyblade smiles.

“They call me the Master Seeker.”


	2. Part 2: Prideful Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case y'all thought I was done.

Riku falls back onto the sandy ground with a shout of pain.

The possessed version of himself laughs, draws position again. “Pathetic”, he says, swinging back to deliver a fatal blow. Braveheart rises to meet the blade, and the past Riku growls. “You just don’t know how to give up and die, do you?”

“Been there, done that”, Riku says, not entirely without humor. He pushes his past self back, getting back onto his feet. “It was great, you should try it sometime.”

The past Riku growls again, rushing back in.

**_You know, this wouldn’t be taking so long if you just listened to me for a minute._ **

Riku groans as the voice materializes in the back of his head. It doesn’t have a sound per se, but the amount of sass is evident and Riku hates how much it sounds like himself.

_What did I tell you about sitting back and shutting up?_

The Foreteller – Superia – huffs. **_Do pardon me, I suppose. But you’re taking way too long with this child while Xehanort is out there, fulfilling his plan._**

_Yeah, well, I can’t get to him without getting through this guy first._

**_Uh, aren’t you forgetting about someone?_** There’s a mental jab in Ansem’s general direction.

Riku groans again, both from annoyance and the strike he has to block. _No, I haven’t. Thanks for the reminder, but unless you have a better idea-_

**_Which I do-_ **

_I said a BETTER idea. Your idea is not better._

**_Hmph. Why did you have to inherit my stubbornness, of all things…_ **

_Well excuse me, I guess._

An unexpected strike knocks him back and he hits a wall. “Argh-!”

“Pay attention already!”, says the him from the past. “If you think you can fight me like that, you’ve got another one coming.” Once again, Soul Eater flashes through the air.

“I dunno, seemed like I was doing pretty well so far”, Riku says. He knows he shouldn’t be antagonizing this dark version of himself – who knows what power he could unleash – but he can’t help it. He has to deal with the worst of himself, Ansem, and a snarky Foreteller in the back of his head. Needless to say, Riku was starting to feel mighty annoyed.

“You-!”, his younger self shouts, rushing forward and locking blades again. “You- you think you’re just sooo much better than me, huh?! Just because you have a grip on your darkness now? Well guess what.” Soul Eater changes form in a flash, turning into a double-headed spear. “You haven’t even seen the worst of me yet.”

There’s the gleam of spinning metal, the pull of momentum, and just like that, Braveheart clatters onto the floor. Soul Eater’s blue eye gleams as the tip of the spear finds the base of Riku’s throat.

“Checkmate”, the dark Riku says.

“More just check, if you ask me”, Riku says and lets himself fall backwards, one foot shooting out to kick the spear away before cartwheeling back up. Braveheart reappears with a flash as Riku draws position. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

_**Nice move.** _

_Shut it._

Superia tuts. _ **I am being genuine. That was a nice move, very unexpected. If only Gula could have seen that, he would have been proud.**_

_I don’t even know who that is._

_**Riku!** _

Riku turns just in time to see the dark firaga about to consume him. _Shit-!_

It hits, and hurts, and burns. Riku screams.

_**Riku!!!** _

Superia’s attention flits from Riku, who crumples to the ground, to Ansem, who has a hand outstretched. The Riku from the past growls at the Seeker. “I told you he’s mine. Don’t interfere.”

“He was getting away”, Ansem simply states.

“No he wasn’t! I had him exactly where I wanted him!”

 ** _Riku, Riku please, wake up! I need you to wake up!_** Superia feels desperation rise. He shouldn’t have been distracting Riku. This wasn’t the right time for this sort of talk. This is why the Master always called him prideful…

Superia steels himself.

And pulls Riku into the Dive to the Heart, all the way to the Station of Awakening.

\--

When Riku blinks awake, it’s dark. He sits up, expecting pain- but nothing comes. He feels completely fine. Which he _shouldn’t._ What the f-

“Oh thank goodness, you’re awake.”

_Ah, fuck._

Riku locates Superia sitting across from him. At least he deduces this is Superia, seeing how someone just spoke and this is the only other person around. Glancing down, he sees familiar stained glass and a soft glow. He looks back at Superia.

Whatever he had expected the Foreteller to look like, it sure wasn’t… this. Black robes with silver details, silver hair. Riku has little doubt about the color of the eyes obscured by that dark bat-winged mask. “Superia?”

“The very one.”

Riku falls back onto his back and groans. “Great. Does this mean I’m dying?”

“No”, Superia says. “I pulled you in to give you some space to breathe. I- I messed up, Riku. Badly.”

When he doesn’t continue, Riku sits up again. Superia is looking at him with regret open and clear on his face and god, they look so much alike.

“I messed up. I was so- so glad I could finally talk to you, everything else became obsolete. I didn’t care about what was happening as long as I could talk to you, and now… This is my fault, if I hadn’t- I suppose what I am trying to say is; I am sorry.

“I know of everything you have been through, how long you doubted the voice in your head, if it was even you or- or Ansem, and yet… for some reason, I expected you to make an exception for me. As if I weren’t doing the exact thing you had nightmares about. I- I wanted to apologize… for that…”

Riku doesn’t say anything.

The silence stretches on.

“…You know, it’s weird.”

Superia’s head snaps up to look at Riku, who is staring up at the non-existent ceiling. “I was convinced I knew what you were like. Proud, strong, maybe a bit ‘holier-than-thou’, definitely a bit of an ass…” He locks eyes with the Foreteller. “I honestly don’t know what to do now that you’ve _apologized_ , of all things.”

A beat, and then Superia begins to laugh. “Yes, I suppose I do tend to act that way. You are not the first to say so, believe me”, he says.

“Oh, I believe that”, Riku says and Superia laughs even harder, shaking his head. “I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I miss Gula and Ira now”, he says.

“Are they your friends?”, Riku asks as Superia is calming down.

“Yes”, the Foreteller nods. “It- it used to be the eight of us, a great many years ago. Five of us were Union leaders. Those were Ira, Ava, Aced, Gula and Invi. And overseeing those Unions were the three of us; me, Luxu and… and our Master. The Master of Masters.”

Riku whistles. “Impressive title.”

Superia chuckles. “He was an impressive man”, he says. His mouth tightens, face growing grim. “And then one day… that magnificent man was just… gone. Like dandelion seeds in the wind. Like he was never even there.” Superia wrings his hands. “Ever since then, I resolved to find him. I imbued my Keyblade with my will and passed it through the generations. Sometimes it found its way back to me, more often than not it wouldn’t.”

“Sounds like you miss him a lot”, Riku remarks. That seems like an understatement, but words have never been Riku’s friend.

Superia snorts, suppresses a bitter chuckle. “I tore out my eye for him and god knows I would lay down my life if he so much as asked”, he says. He then looks at Riku. “I need your help, Riku. I need to get my Keyblade back. I want to give it to you so you can help me seek.”

Riku is quiet for a bit. Then he says; “Is he really that special? Your Master? I heard what you said but… you know.” Even if Superia seemed like an okay person, the last thing Riku wanted was to fall under someone’s control again. What Superia had proposed when they’d first spoken… That hadn’t been Riku’s finest moment.

A tiny smile appears on Superia’s face. “I know. I understand your hesitation”, he says. And after a moment; “May I… show you?”

The question catches Riku off guard, but after a moment’s thought he nods. He wants to trust Superia’s words, that they are fundamentally the same. If anything, he trusts in the heart of those words.

And then he sees Superia’s memories.

A boy with brown hair, smiling at him.

The boy, looking cheeky and up to no good.

The boy, crying, hands pressed to his eye, blood running between them.

The boy growing up into a teen, adolescent, and eventually adult.

The man’s face is hidden by a hood but his smile remains visible and gods is it bright like the sun.

Riku feels Superia’s emotions, looking at these images. Respect, admiration, loyalty, but most of all – love. Sure, Superia loves the other Foretellers a great amount but his Master- his Master is special. And wow does Riku understand that feeling.

When the memories fade, Riku asks; “Do you know where your Keyblade is?”

Superia nods.

“And melding hearts… won’t erase either of us? We’ll just be one?”

Superia nods again. “It will be both of us at the same time. Both Riku and Superia, without one dominating the other, without either’s heart getting trampled. A delicate balance, but easy to maintain once established.”

Riku draws a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He stands, Superia following suit. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

\--

He wakes up just in time to avoid a sword to the chest.

“Tch.” The past Riku watches as present Riku gets back up. “You really don’t know how to just let yourself get killed, huh?”

“Can’t say I’m a big fan of the experience”, Riku says. Braveheart is nowhere to be seen and past Riku has noticed.

He grins. “Are you going to try and take me out without a Keyblade? That’s rich, even for you.”

“No”, Riku says, glancing over at Ansem. “I simply have my eye set on a better one.”

Ansem narrows his eyes. Past Riku curls his hands into fists. “You… you really think you can just…” Soul Eater assumes its spear-form again. “QUIT FUCKING IGNORING ME!!”

The spear swings down.

Riku holds out a hand.

And in the depths of his darkness-consumed heart, Ansem feels a tug.

And a very important chain suddenly shatters.

_Clash!_

Metal rings and sends a shockwave across the ruins, kicking up a wall of dust and force, pushing the already unstable Seeker up against a wall before dropping him unceremoniously.

The Riku from the past doesn’t get blown back, being at the center of the explosion, but that doesn’t last long when Riku puts his weight behind a wicked strike and sends the other flying.

When the dust settles, it reveals the strangest sight.

“You… how do you have that…?”, Ansem asks as he stands.

Riku – is it Riku? – turns to him and smiles. “It told you, right? How it was imbued with its master’s will? It must have.”

Black, silver and green flashes as Riku holds up Master Seeker- no. Prideful Eye.

“I am that master.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well wasn't that fun. 
> 
> If you want to yell at me you can do so in my DMs, or on my tumblr. I have a personal blog and a sideblog with AUs just like this one, so DM me if you want a link to either and I'll hit u up.
> 
> *peaces out*


End file.
